April-December 1844

The Collected Letters, Volume 18


TC TO JANE WELSH CARLYLE ; 15 July 1844; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18440715-TC-JWC-01; CL 18: 133-134


Chelsea, Monday 15 july / 1844—

No word from Goody today; which is a kind of disappointment, tho' an unreasonable one, to the human mind! Pray only the poor Goody have not got her sore throat back again,—all will be well, and we shall hear of her tomorrow.— Or perhaps you did not get my Note at all yesterday, there being no post on Sunday? Do not bother yourself writing, no use for that; only send a scrape of a pen when there is any doubt about you. Poor Goodykin!

Saturday grew wetter and wetter; a perfect steep of rain, which escorted me up to Cary's at the Museum, and escorted Darley and me down again (with mud enough), and continued all night. Dinner dull as dumps; old Cary a venerable good kind of soul, worth going to once; but his three sons very snuffy, limited and even foolish persons. The wife of one of them a ‘professed beauty’—one of the worst trades in this world!1 Darley was our main element; judge what the general sum of resources was! And I have lost (partly) two nights of sleep by the job, and have been as ill as a dinner of the highest sublimity need have made me.

Yesterday and today the weather is brisk wind with fitful sun and shadow; delightful to me. I walked, after a little work yesterday up to Mazzini's with his book, and back again; Mi not in. Met Chorley by the way, who chanced also to be going to Queen Square;2 “Talkee-talkee-hee!” Chorley is getting splenetic I think; pale Prestonpans beer getting into an acidulated state.— Various persons had called here, in expectation of the Goody's return, I do opine! Old Stimabile, Darwin; then after dinner, Fleming3 on horseback to ask If Mrs Carlyle was home?—perhaps by Mrs Buller's order? He would not come in, tho' I by message invited him. In the evening I gave Helen two hours of outrake [freedom to venture out], and myself wrote Cromwell stuff the while. And now for the showerbath and the walk.

Do you go today to Maryland Street? I believe so, for the little Dame usually keeps her word. And when to Manchester? And when home? God bless thee, my little one. Write a word, after all!— These two Letters came on Saturday. Ever thy affectionate

T. Carlyle